At this time we had again brought our number in Manila to five. In the place of Father Alonso Sanchez, who was absent in España, and of the late Father Hernán Suarez, two others of us had gone to the islands and had learned the language; and one of us, in holy obedience to orders given him, and at the instance of a prebendary of Manila, began to use it in his benefice, fourteen leguas from the city. The principal village of this district is called Balayan; in it and in numerous other villages of the same region there are many good Christians, converted by the discalced friars of the Order of the seraphic Father St. Francis—especially in Balayan, among whose inhabitants there are many persons of note, who are very intelligent and well disposed. During several years an apostolic man of that order preached there, named Father Juan de Oliver, whose holy teaching shone forth in the piety and devotion of that people. I dwelt in that district for more than two months, and during my stay they kept me well occupied in the baptism of children and adults, and in confessions and communions, which were so numerous that all that time seemed to me a Holy Week. All these peoples hold our holy law in the highest esteem, and therefore have the deepest respect for its priests. I shall relate in this connection an incident that befell me at this time with some of the chiefs of Balayan. There was an epidemic of small-pox (called by them Bolotong), which was killing off children and old men, although more fatal to adults than to the young. I was in the habit of walking through the principal streets twice a day, morning and night, when I would send boys on both sides of the street to discover and indicate to me those who desired confession and baptism. Whenever they sent for me (which was not seldom), I entered the house; all the living-rooms are in the upper part, the lower floor being used only for household duties. And it was no small labor to ascend and descend so often, especially by ladders of cane; which are used everywhere. One day, when busied in this my occupation, I passed by a group of their chiefs, who, upon perceiving me, formed a row on one side of the street and saluted me all together, uncovering their heads, and making a low bow. I, inclining my head, removed my cap and passed on. They appreciated my politeness, and considered themselves so favored and honored by it that, upon my return, they displayed the same courtesy, standing in line, and then they all fell upon their knees, as if they desired to excel me in politeness; for that which I had shown them when I first approached seemed to them all too much. My greatest aid to them was at Lian, three leguas from Balayan, in which place—as well as in another near by, called Manisua—I converted many to Christianity and heard many confessions. I was here on Ash Wednesday; not only did the adults receive the ashes with incredible reverence and devotion, but all the mothers brought all their children to receive the emblem, and were not willing to depart until they and all the others had received. For this journey I thank and am deeply grateful to the bishop who was most earnestly desirous that Ours should aid in so important a ministry. As it was clearly evident that the villages of Taitai, Antipolo, and others of that encomienda—which was six leguas from Manila, up the river, and in which there were already some Christians—contained many infidels who should be converted, he entrusted it to the Society. Through the grace of Jesus Christ our Lord, such fruitful results were accomplished as shall be seen in the course of this narrative. I shall simply state for the present that, at the end of ten years, I was in the habit of saying (in imitation of St. Gregory Thaumaturgus) that I was most thankful to our Lord, for, when I entered the place, I found hardly forty Christians, and at the end of that time there were not four infidels. If I am not mistaken, we baptized with our own hands more than seven thousand souls; and today it is one of the most flourishing of Christian communities that Holy Church possesses, and none in those regions is superior to it.
How the village of Taitai improved its site. Chapter IX.
At that time the village of Taitai lay along the water, on the banks of a marsh or stream formed by waterfalls from the mountains of Antipolo, which emptied into the river near the same mouth by which it flows out of the lagoon. It was situated in a most beautiful and extensive valley, formed between the lagoon and the mountains; and so low that each year, when the waters of the lagoon rise on account of the floods from the many rivers which enter it, the valley is flooded and submerged as is Egypt by the Nile, and remains thus inundated from August until October or November. At this period the valley itself becomes a lagoon of more than an estado in depth, and can be traversed only by means of boats. This inundation abundantly fertilizes the rice fields and seeded lands with which the valley is covered, and, as a result, rich and abundant harvests are gathered. The water enters at the proper season when the rice stalks are hardening and are beginning to ear; consequently the copious irrigation helps it to form seed without hindering the grain from hardening, or the harvest from being gathered. On the contrary it is a convenience, as I myself have often seen, to go in boats for the reaping, and in those boats to bring the bundles of grain to the houses, where they are exposed to the sun to dry. When it is thoroughly dry they thresh and clean it, and store it in their granaries. This inundation not only flooded the village—to such an extent that the streets could be traversed only in boats, in which I went often enough—but also, although the floor of the church had been raised and repairs made to guard against the water, it flowed in over the steps, even to the main altar. On account of this inundation they had selected, not far from the church and farther back from the water, a hill, where those who died during this season were interred. For mass they repaired to Antipolo, which lies a scant three miles inland among the mountains. The first time when I saw my church flooded, and realized that I could not say mass in it, I was obliged to believe what I had never been able to credit, although I had been often told of it. It is customary for these villages, for greater convenience of government, to be divided into districts on the plan of parishes, which they call barangais. Each one of these is under the command of a chief, who governs it and appoints those who are to provide for all contingencies; the latter are called datos. At that time this village had four hundred families and was divided into four barangais; consequently there were four datos, each one of whom had charge of a hundred inhabitants who are called collectively catongohan. I summoned my four datos and from the choir I showed them the altar; they saw (and they had known it beforehand) that mass could not be celebrated. "Without celebrating mass each day," I said to them, "although I may be unworthy of it, I cannot live, for that is my sustenance which gives me strength to serve you for Christ's sake. Now I must go where I can say it—that is, to Antipolo. If you wish to see me again, you will build for me, on the hill where the dead are now buried, a little church in which I can say mass, with some little room to which I can retire; until this be done, I remain with God;" and I went away. Desiring my return, they soon began the work and finished it in such wise that I could stay and celebrate mass, and, too, serve as an attraction to any one who might pass that way. At first they did very little, and that slowly; but as it was necessary to dismantle the church and carry to the hill its materials, and with these the cross belonging to the cemetery, they soon began to show such haste in migrating to the new village that ten or twelve of them crowded into one house, until each one could build his own. Surprised at such haste, I inquired its cause, and they told me that at night they suffered from fear of the demons in the old village, because it had now no church or cross; and so no one dared to sleep there. With this change the village greatly improved its site. That they might not lack water near by for bathing (to which all those nations are much addicted), they carefully opened a ditch at the base of the hill, along the edge of the village, by which water could come in from the stream which they formerly had. Along the streets and around the village they planted their groves and palm-trees, which enrich and beautify it. They afterward constructed on the new site a very beautiful temple with the help of the king our lord, who paid a third of its cost, as his Majesty does for all the churches. Since I have mentioned the baths it is fitting to relate what I can tell about them.
Of baths in the Philippines. Chapter X.
From the time when they are born, these islanders are brought up in the water. Consequently both men and women swim like fishes, even from childhood, and have no need of bridges to pass over rivers. They bathe themselves at all hours, for cleanliness and recreation; and even the women after childbirth do not refrain from the bath, and children just born are bathed in the rivers and springs of cold water. When leaving the bath, they anoint the head with ajonjoli [i.e., oil of sesame] mixed with civet—of which, as we shall later show, there is great abundance in those regions. Even when not bathing, they are accustomed to anoint their heads for comfort and adornment, especially the women and children. Through modesty, they bathe with their bodies drawn up and almost in a sitting posture, with the water to the neck, taking the greatest care not to be seen, although no one may be near to see them. The most general hour for bathing is at the setting of the sun, because at that time they have finished their labors, and bathe in the river to rest and refresh themselves; on the way, they usually carry some vessel for bearing water to use in their domestic duties. In the island of Panay I saw all the people, at the conclusion of a burial, hasten to the river upon leaving the church and bathe there, as was the custom among the Jews—although these Indias have no knowledge of that dead law. They keep a vessel full of water before the door of every house; every person, whether belonging to the house or not, who enters it takes water from the jar with which to wash his feet before entering, especially during the season of much mud. They wash their feet with great facility, rubbing one foot with the other: the water flows down through the floor of the house, which is all of cane and fashioned like a window-grating: with bars close together.
They also employ the baths as a medicine, and God our Lord has given them for this purpose springs of hot water. In the last few years the hot springs of Bai, on the banks of the lagoon of Bai, have been most healthful and famous, and many Spaniards of both sexes as well as ecclesiastics and religious, have had recourse to them in various maladies and recovered their health. And, indeed, the ease and delightfulness of the trip almost compel one to undertake it, even though he may not need it. The [Pasig] River extends inland as much as six leguas; and from its source in the lagoon until it reaches the bay of Manila, it is dotted with houses, gardens, and stock-farms, in most delightful variety. As the trees in that climate bear leaves the whole year through, their verdure and coolness increase the charm. I noticed but two trees which shed their leaves; both of them are wild, and do not bear fruit, but both are highly useful and valued for that reason. One is the balete, [57] which grows very tall, has a round, cup-shaped head, like a moderately large walnut tree, and is of a most delightful green. Its leaves are somewhat narrow, like those of the almond tree; and are hard, compact, and glossy to the touch, like those of the orange tree. The Filipinos prize them for their use in cooking, as we do the laurel and the rosemary. This tree is very hardy, and most often flourishes in rocky places; it has a natural tendency to produce roots over almost the whole surface of its trunk so that it appears to be covered with a beard. The Chinese, who are really ingenious, are wont to plant one of these trees on a stone (so small that both the tree and stone can be held in the hand), just as if it were in a flower-pot, and then it can be carried from one place to another; and the tree, like a dwarfed orange tree, grows in proportion to its roots, hardly reaching five palmos in height. As this method of planting these trees on a stone may seem as difficult as it is curious, I shall describe how I have seen it done. They take a sprout of the tree when it is already covered with roots, and a stone which must not be too hard, or smooth, but not very solid, and somewhat porous or hollow. These stones are found there in abundance among the reefs and shoals of the sea. They tie the little tree or sprout to this stone, covering the latter so far as possible on all sides with the fibres and roots; and to make it grow, they cover the stone with water. With the water the tree clings much more readily to the stone, entwines about it, and becomes grafted into all its pores and cavities, embracing it with remarkable amity and union. A large balete stands in the patio [i.e., inner court] of our house in Manila, near the regular entrance. In the year 1602, in the month of April or May, I saw it all withered, with its leaves falling. Thinking that it was dying I was greatly grieved, for I did not wish to lose so fine a tree. My sorrow was increased when I saw it next day almost without a leaf; and I showed it to our procurator, who chanced to be with me while I was inspecting the tree. But on the third day I beheld it covered with new leaves, tender and beautiful, at which I was as rejoiced as I had previously been saddened; for it is in truth a beautiful tree. In this I saw represented, as in a picture, the truth of the resurrection.
There is another tree which they call dabdab. [58] Its leaves also have an agreeable taste and serve as a lining for the inside of the kettle in which they cook their rice, preventing the latter from adhering to the sides. This tree is very similar to the almond-tree, although its trunk and leaves are much larger. These leaves are nearly as large as the palm of the hand and shaped like a heart. It apparently dies in September and revives in January, when the flower appears, before the leaf; it is different from the balete, being larger and of a different shape, and red like a ruby.
Among other plants brought from Nueva España to the Filipinas is the anona, [59] which has grown larger and is more successfully raised in these islands; it yields a most delicious and delicate fruit. It also loses its leaves, but soon renews them, almost as quickly as does the balete.
But, to return to the river of Manila—over which the passage to the baths is made in boats, large or small according to the number of passengers—by going up the stream the lagoon is reached; this, with its forty leagues of circumference, is one of the most remarkable objects in the world. All that region is full of rivers, villages, and groves. The lagoon itself is of fresh water, and has many islets which render it beautiful. It abounds in fish, and in herons, ducks, and other water-fowl. Above all, it contains many crocodiles or caimans (which there are called buaya), which cause great havoc among the poor fishermen and traders who navigate the river—especially in stormy weather, when the waters become tumultuous, as often happens, and swamp their vessels.
Of the mission at Tigbauan, and what the fathers of the Society accomplished there. Chapter XI.